Movie Night
by Xenitha
Summary: Every family has its traditions and the Bat Family is no different. Movie night gives the family a chance to hang out and remember what they stand for. Based on Batman and Robin 20.
1. Dick Grayson

MOVIE NIGHT

CHAPTER 1

WAYNE MANOR

DICK GRAYSON, AGE 9

"I guess I don't really understand, Alfie," Dick Grayson opened the cavernous refrigerator in the Wayne Manor kitchen and began rummaging for the milk carton. "I mean, in the circus we really didn't have movie nights. We were too busy practicing or performing or setting up or taking down."

The elderly butler was busily making popcorn the old fashioned way, in a heavy cast iron pan on the stove. Dick could hear the pop-popping sounds under the firmly closed lid. Alfred had warned him not to lift the lid or the popcorn kernels would shoot out all over the kitchen. When Dick had suggested that microwave popcorn was a lot faster and easier, Alfred had adopted the look of disdain his face got whenever he was faced with something unpleasant. "No, Master Dick, we do not use mixes or instant anything in this house. The day that I let standards drop is the day that I shall retire."

"Is this it?" Dick pulled out the carton of whole milk and showed it to Alfred. "I didn't think that Bruce drank whole milk."

"Indeed he does not, young sir," Alfred said, pouring a generous helping into the blender. "I believe he normally drinks soy milk," Alfred said with a shudder. "He claims that it is healthier. Nevertheless, a strawberry shake cannot be made properly except with whole milk. Do you have the ice cream?"

"Here it is," Dick found the gallon of strawberry ice cream and watched as the old butler sliced the strawberries and added them to the blender, then instructed his young assistant in adding the ice cream. "And of course, one also adds just a dab of Ovaltine, for flavor."

Alfred moved over to the pan on the stove and gave it a vigorous shake while Dick was entrusted with the blender. Bruce wandered into the kitchen, smiling and looking relaxed for a change. "Well, I got the movies I wanted. It's a double feature."

Alfred poured out the popcorn into a bowl, adding butter and salt. Handing the bowl to Dick, he said, "Well, young master Robin, carry this into the den. We will follow you there shortly." Dick left the room, carrying the bowl carefully. Alfred turned to Bruce and frowned a bit. "Are you certain, sir, that you want to see _that_ movie? I mean..."

Bruce simply nodded. "It's all right, Alfred. That movie had tremendous meaning for me, especially since I saw it on the day my parents were killed. I want Dick to understand the motivations and ethics of what we do."

"You have been discussing the reasoning behind your role as Batman ever since you began training the boy. How is this any different?" Alfred began spooning strawberry shake into the tall glasses, slapping Bruce's hand when he tried to filch some whipped cream.

"I just want him to get beyond the darkness of what we do to the sheer joy of it. I can't think of any better way to illustrate it," Bruce picked up his own shake, while Alfred held two in his hands. Together they went into the den, which was already set up for the evening.

The den was fitted with three identical black leather easy chairs facing a large screen television set. "I've got the remote, Bruce," Dick said, studying the controls. "The VCR's on."

"Okay, here goes," Bruce slid in the first movie. "This is one of my old favorites, the Mark of Zorro. It's about a masked hero who defended the defenseless in Old California. He rode a black horse and wore a mask."

Dick grinned and pulled himself up in the chair. "Kinda like us, huh?"

Bruce sat in the middle chair as Alfred handed the boy his strawberry shake. "Precisely as you and Master Bruce do, young sir," he said and sat in his own chair to watch the movie.

"What's the second movie?" Dick asked as the credits rolled.

"Robin Hood, with Errol Flynn," Bruce replied. "He wore a mask, too."

"Yeah, but he and the Sheriff of Nottingham didn't get along, did they?" Dick said. "At least you and Commissioner Gordon help each other."

"It wasn't always like that," Bruce replied. "At first, the Gotham police were hunting me just as hard as the Sheriff's men...Okay, it's starting..."

HOURS LATER

"Y'know, Bruce, we've been talking about my uniform a lot," a sleepy Dick Grayson said to his guardian as he climbed the stairs to bed. "I kind of like the Robin Hood look. You know, like the tunic with an undershirt and a cape. I'm already going to be called Robin, so why not have a red tunic with green sleeves? And a yellow cape, like my circus outfit."

"That sounds very colorful, Dick," Bruce said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't lose track of you, that's for sure. That could add some strategy, too. Like a robin, do you think you could bob around the criminals? Keep moving and keep them distracted. Then, when they aren't looking..."

"You can punch 'em!" Dick said enthusiastically. "Just like Robin Hood and his men always got the drop on the Sheriff's men!"

"That's right," Bruce said, grinning.

"Are you gonna teach me how to use a sword? Both Zorro and Robin Hood could use a sword." Dick yawned widely as Bruce tucked him in.

"We'll start your fencing lessons tomorrow, chum. I promise," Bruce said. "Good night, Robin," he said softly and turned out the lights.


	2. Jason Todd

CHAPTER 2

JASON TODD, AGE 13

"So, what's so special about watching videos?" Jason scooped the ice cream into the blender that Dick had just found in the cupboard.

Dick checked the label on the carton. Nope, not the soymilk and poured the milk in. "Bruce is kind of a stickler for family. We're usually so busy that we can't get together very often." Dick gave him a wry smile and began dumping sliced strawberries into the blender. "How are you doing with the popcorn, Alfie?"

"It is well underway, Master Dick," the butler called back.

"I think I forgot something..."Dick looked into the blender thoughtfully. "Oh yeah, the Ovaltine. Jay, would you find the Ovaltine? It's in the cupboard over there. I'll get the spoon."

Jason obediently went to the indicated cupboard and removed a package. "What is this stuff?"

"It is a cocoa flavored mix for milk," Alfred replied, shaking the cast iron pan vigorously.

Jason nodded and handed the jar to Dick, then stood next to Alfred. "Hey, Alfred, you mean to tell me that Wayne Manor doesn't even have a popcorn popper? I thought you guys had everything, man!"

"We do not have substitutes for those things best done the old fashioned way, Master Jason," Alfred replied and handed Jason some oven mitts. "You can take over here. Just keep the kernels moving until the popping sounds stop. And don't take off the lid!" Alfred took off his own mitts and left the room.

Jason put on the mitts and dutifully shook the pan. He and his Dad hadn't even had a popcorn popper; they'd used microwave popcorn on the rare times they had it. This pan shaking stuff was weird. It was really popping now...curious about what was really happening under the lid, he lifted it off just a bit and was startled when a piece of popcorn flew past his left ear. Startled, he dropped the lid and ducked, hands tucked over his head protectively.

Dick, equally startled, dropped into a crouch and made his way to the pan, then slammed the lid back down. Eyeing the chaos surrounding them both, Dick fished out the kernel that had landed in the blender and popped it into his mouth. "We'd better clean this up, Jay, or Alfred will have a cow."

"I'm sorry about that," Jason said ruefully as he found the broom and dustpan. "I've just never seen popcorn made in a pan before."

Dick grinned, sweeping kernels off the counter tops and into the trash can. "Don't I know it! I thought Alfred was gonna blow a gasket the first time I asked why he wasn't using microwave popcorn. Standards, he said, must be maintained." He finished clearing and emptied the popcorn that remained into a bowl. "I have to admit, it does taste better with real butter on it. Let's start up another batch and he'll never notice! The popcorn is in that cupboard over there," he nodded with his chin. "I've got the oil here."

Together, Dick and Jason made a second batch of popcorn and kept the lid on the pan. By the time Alfred returned to the kitchen, the second batch was done and in the bowl with the remains of the first and the shakes had been dispensed into their tall glasses.

"The Master isn't back yet, but we will adjust the settings on the television set and prepare for his arrival," the butler announced.

"Yeah, I know Alfie," Dick said and went over to the set. "The factory settings are always too green. I'll fix it." He knelt and began tinkering with the buttons.

"Can I help?" Jason knelt next to him.

"Sure. You'll have to adjust this thing when I'm not here. Believe it or not, Bruce is useless with electronics. That's what I always used to do as Robin, repair and adjust all the high tech gadgets. There's only one other duty for Robin, and that's the most important," he turned earnest blue eyes toward the boy.

"Yeah, I know, follow orders. I got that one," Jason snorted.

"No, not that one," Dick said solemnly. "Robin's primary job is to make sure that Batman gets home safely. Bruce explained it to me the first time I went on patrol with him. Your job is to watch his back and take out the traps he might not see." Dick grinned. "As for following orders? I made a career of breaking rules and saved his butt more than once." He turned back to television set. "That should do it."

"I hope I can be as good a Robin as you were," Jason said wistfully. "I'm not very good at the acrobatics."

"It just takes training," Dick said, clasping the boy's shoulder. "And time. I hope you get both. I know you'll be a great Robin."

"Why the serious faces?" Bruce's voice boomed from the doorway. "I've got some great movies for tonight."

"Didja get Robin Hood?" Dick demanded with a smile, climbing to his feet.

Bruce smiled back. "That, and the Scarlet Pimpernel. Lots of sword fights."

"What? No Terminator or Star Wars or something?" asked Jason.

"You'll like these movies, Jason. They're old but they're classic. The heroes in each are masked vigilantes, like us."

"You mean they swing around sky-scrapers wearing funny clothes?" Jason asked with a smirk.

"He's got you there, Bruce," Dick said.

"Well, maybe they swing from trees while wearing outfits kind of like your new uniform," Bruce admitted. "But they also help people. Robin Hood helped the poor and defended them from the Sheriff of Nottingham. The Scarlet Pimpernel rescued people from the guillotine."

Dick nodded. "And spent the rest of his time pretending to be a rich idiot who didn't care about anything but clothing and women, right Bruce? I guess you could say, these movies give us a little inspiration."

Bruce rubbed his nose. "I guess so. In any case, they're good entertainment. Shall we?" He gestured towards the four black armchairs in a row. Dick passed the popcorn to Jason and helped himself to his shake.

* * *

HOURS LATER

"Why so quiet, Jason?" Bruce asked the boy.

"I don't get why the Scarlet Pimpernel didn't just kill Chauvelin to keep him from hunting down more people?" Jason asked.

"We don't kill. We let the law deal with the criminals that we bring in." Bruce eyed his ward closely. "I know that's not what you were raised with."

"No, it wasn't," Jason admitted. "Dick told me that my first job as Robin was making sure you got home okay. If that meant killing somebody to protect you, I'd do it. What's wrong with that?"

Bruce sighed. "Jason, we never use lethal force. Never. It's what separates us from the criminals. It's a line I won't cross and don't want you to cross for me, understand? Ultimately, our goals are peaceful ones even though we often work outside the law."

Jason's face was doubtful as he replied, "I guess so."


	3. Jason Todd, Deceased

Author's note: Okay, maybe not so fluffy...But necessary.

CHAPTER 3

JASON TODD, DECEASED

Dick heard the door slam behind him with a resounding thump. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. The last time he'd spoken to Bruce was shortly after Jason's funeral, the funeral he'd been off-planet during. Heck, he hadn't even found out that Jason had died until he got back from Tamaran. Bruce had been cold to him ever since and Dick had been avoiding him. The only thing that could bring him back to the Manor now...

"Master Dick! How good of you to come," Alfred said cordially and shook his hand in both of his. "I am so glad you were able to make it."

"Are you sure this is okay with Bruce?" Dick looked around nervously. "I mean, I know he's still upset about Jason..."

"He is mourning in his own way," Alfred replied sadly. "But still, this is the time when one needs family the most. Come into the kitchen, lad. Let's see if you still remember how to make popcorn..."

The kitchen was spotless, as usual, but somehow quiet. He wasn't trading remarks with a semi-hyperactive Boy Wonder. The place seemed...silent. He focused on making sure that the popcorn wasn't burned, getting the right amount of butter, not too much salt...Bruce was death on high sodium foods. He didn't know the last time he'd focused so hard on a single task.

"Oh dear," Alfred said, surveying the four shakes he'd prepared. "My mistake." He reached out to remove the fourth, when a deep voice came from the kitchen entrance.

"Leave it."

Dick almost dropped the bowl of popcorn. Bruce stood quietly in the corner, his face unreadable, his voice even. "Hi Bruce," Dick said uncertainly. "I...ah...hope it's okay that I dropped by."

"It's fine," Bruce said, picking up two of the shakes. "You know where the den is."

"Yeah..." Dick replied and picked up his own shake and the bowl of popcorn. He traded glances with Alfred, but the old butler just shrugged.

In the den, there were still four chairs in a row in front of the big screen television set. Bruce had opened the movie cupboard and had just selected a CD for the evening.

"What are we watching?" Dick asked.

"I thought, the Magnificent Seven might be a good choice. It seems...appropriate." Bruce slid the CD into the player and took his seat in the middle chair. Dick took his regular spot to Bruce's right and Alfred sat to the right of him. Only Jason's chair sat empty, the shake on the chair's side table next to a small bowl of popcorn that Bruce had clearly decanted. Again, Dick exchanged glances with Alfred and Alfred looked helplessly back.

Dick handed the remote to Bruce and they sat back to silently watch the movie.

HOURS LATER

"I guess I should be going, Bruce," Dick reached for his leather jacket and motorcycle helmet. "But thanks for inviting me."

"It's late, Dick. Why don't you stay over? Maybe we could talk over a few things...I...if you have the time." For the first time, Bruce looked a little uncertain.

"He was a good kid," Dick said quietly. "And a good Robin. I was proud of him."

"I know," Bruce said. "But I still know that I failed him."

"Bruce, he knew the risks, just like I did," Dick put down his helmet and jacket, moving closer to his mentor. "In the end, he died trying to do good, in the spirit of everything you ever taught us," he said softly, his hands on his mentor's shoulders.

Bruce just gave him a look and reached in for a hug, his body shaking with silent sobs. Dick tried to blink back the tears, then gave up. Alfred was right. Family was most important at a time like this.

Additional Author's Note: For those of you who haven't seen it, in Magnificent Seven most of the good guys die defending the villagers.


	4. Tim Drake

CHAPTER 4

TIMOTHY DRAKE

AGE 14

"Wow! This place is enormous," Tim walked into the kitchen, careful not to touch anything. It had taken him long enough to convince Bruce Wayne to take him on as Robin, the last thing he wanted to do was break a priceless Ming vase or something.

The butler, Alfred, gave Tim a kind glance. "Don't worry, Master Timothy. This old house has seen boys grow to be men before. You can't damage anything."

Dick Grayson, down from New York City, popped a strawberry into his mouth before he could get his hand slapped. "Don't worry, Alfred used to have to pull me down off the chandeliers. I think he was afraid I'd fall."

"Not so, Master Dick." Alfred scooted the strawberries out of Dick's reach. "I was concerned that our chandeliers might be damaged by your acrobatics. You have always been quite nimble, such that I have rarely been concerned about your falling from some height."

"If you say so, Alfie," Dick leaned over the counter next to Tim. "I also used the bannisters as monkey bars," he said in a confidential tone. "There isn't much you could do to shock Alfred at this point."

"Master Dick, you don't seem to have anything to keep you occupied. Perhaps you would like to show Master Timothy how to make popcorn?"

"Sure, Alfie," Dick grinned and fished the old cast iron pan out of the cupboard. Tim watched with an increasingly puzzled look on his face.

"But aren't you going to microwave it?" he asked. "I've always liked the MoviePop brand."

"Nope. This here requires the zen of concentration to prevent burning or sticking," Dick said with a superior expression on his face. "I, myself, only mastered it recently. Behold..." He poured oil into the pan and turned the burner on.

"But why are we making it in a pan? Isn't it easier to microwave it?"

"Master Bruce doesn't like the additives," Alfred replied placidly. "And besides, it tastes better."

Dick tossed a couple of kernels of corn into the pan and watched as they popped. "Okay, now it's ready. I measured out the corn, go ahead and put it in and we'll put the lid on. Okay...now!" and Dick slammed the lid onto the pan.

Tim could hear the sound of popping like a series of rifle shots. He looked up and saw a sad look on Dick's face. He'd been catching a lot of expressions like that on both Bruce's and Dick's faces. He knew they were remembering Jason and promised himself that he would never screw up like that kid had.

"Okay, shake the pan," Dick instructed. Tim held the lid down and slid the pan side to side on the burner. When the popcorn stopped making noise, Dick let him take the lid off and add butter but just a bit of salt. "Bruce's body is a temple," Dick said with a smile. "He hates oversalted food. And now, we help Alfie with the shakes. Would you get the ice cream scoop? It's in the drawer over there." He pointed and went to dig the ice cream out of the fridge.

Tim found the scoop and hefted it in his hand. Br..Batman had had him practicing with batarangs lately and the scoop weighed about the same. With a grin he yelled, "Think fast!" and tossed the scoop to Dick, head still in the freezer. To his surprise, Dick reached out a hand and plucked the scoop out of the air.

Dick leaned out of the fridge with an even bigger grin than Tim's. "Thanks, Boy Wonder."

Tim couldn't help the shiver of pleasure that ran down his spine. Boy Wonder. He was the new Boy Wonder, so called by the original Boy Wonder. Wow.

"Okay, here's how you make a strawberry shake," Dick instructed, scooping ice cream into the blender. Alfred added the milk.

"And now the secret ingredient," Dick said. "Do you swear on pain of death not to divulge this secret ingredient to anyone, even if tortured by Penguin, the Joker AND Poison Ivy?"

"I swear!" Tim replied bravely, then caught sight of the jar that Alfred was removing from the cupboard. "Ovaltine? Isn't that what old people drink?"

"And many young ones, too, Master Timothy," Alfred replied, setting the jar down onto the counter top. He opened a drawer and pulled out a tablespoon. "Would you care to do the honors? One spoonful, if you please."

"Uh...okay," Tim said and scooped a heaping spoonful into the blender. Alfred took over and began to finish the shakes.

"You take the popcorn in and I will follow with the shakes," Alfred said. "Don't forget the remote control, young sirs."

Dick nodded and added it to his pile of popcorn bowls. "The den is this way. You know it as the entrance to the cave." He opened the door and Tim saw four huge black leather easy chairs, each with matching foot stool, in a row in front of a big screen HD-TV. He stood there and blinked for a moment, remembering the smaller television at home. He also saw the Wii set up next to the set and grinned.

"So, which one of you plays Wii?" he asked.

"Bruce," Dick said, making sure that Bruce was out of the room. "He likes that one game where you flap your arms like a bird..."

"Where I what?" Came Bruce's dry voice from the back of the room. "Tim, Dick gave it to me for Christmas last year. Alfred uses it the most for the video bowling. I like the yoga."

"Indeed sir, I have vastly improved over the year," Alfred added, settling into his chair.

"Hey, Tim, why don't you adjust the color settings while Bruce picks out a movie," Dick said, tossing the remote at Tim, backhand. Tim caught it with a "fap!" and moved over to play with the controls. He had the colors adjusted in record time, even though Dick continued to insist that the colors were too green.

Bruce stopped the argument by relieving Tim of the remote and sliding a DVD into the player. "There's some good swordplay in this movie."

Dick looked at the title as it flashed on the screen and snorted. "Well, we've run into a lot of odd stuff in the Gotham sewers but I've never seen any giant rats. Crocodiles, yes, but rats, no."

"Speak for yourself," was Bruce's only reply. They all settled in as the Princess Bride began to play.

* * *

HOURS LATER

Dick and Tim were busy with the dishes. Dick scrubbed the popcorn pan while Tim took apart and cleaned the blender.

"So, any concerns so far? This whole thing has to be pretty overwhelming," Dick rinsed off the pan with hot water, watched it drain and picked up the steel wool.

"Dick, what's the scaredest you ever were as Robin? I'm just kind of afraid that I'll freeze and have to be rescued," Tim said, eyes directed at the blender he was cleaning so meticulously.

"I don't think you will, Tim," Dick replied, then paused for a long moment. "I've been scared, lots of times. Mostly I just snarked at the bad guys and kept 'em distracted so Batman could take 'em down. The worst? The first time I looked real, true evil in the face and knew I couldn't win."

"When was that? The Joker? Scarecrow?" Tim had stopped cleaning and watched Dick's face.

"No, none of them. An ex-DA, Harvey Dent. Do you remember when Batman and I took down Two Face? It made all the papers after Judge Watkins was killed," Dick had begun scrubbing harder at the pan with the steel wool, his knuckles going white. "But you were pretty young, then."

"I read up on it later, but I don't remember it mentioning you much until that custody case. Oh yeah, that one." Tim stopped and gulped. "I'm sorry, Dick. I shouldn't have brought it up. I...um...managed to hack into the court file and read transcripts from both trials, then looked at the photos. I'm sorry. I take back the question..."

"But you need to know, Tim," Dick said gently, putting down the pan and running cold water over blistered fingers. "You know that Jason died."

"Yeah, in an explosion," Tim began, then saw Dick's face. "Not in an explosion?"

"Not entirely. He was beaten half to death by the Joker with a crowbar before the bomb went off. One of the hazards of our job is getting killed in very messy ways." He turned around and leaned against the counter, folding arms over chest. "With Two-Face, the only reason I was there that night was because I disobeyed orders. That gave Two-Face the opening he needed to kidnap both of us and beat me with a baseball bat until I almost died. While he was hitting me, I saw Dent's face, the demonic glee in his eyes. I'd seen greed, avarice, hatred but never anything like that before. I knew then that I was gonna die. It was just a matter of time. But what hurt the most was knowing that I'd let Batman down. I knew that it was all my fault. If I hadn't distracted Batman, he never would have gotten caught by Two-Face. I had nightmares for months after that. And worst of all, Batman fired me afterwards; because I had let him down. But at least I'm still alive. Jason _died_ because he disobeyed orders." He ran a hand through his hair.

"I used to think that Robin's job was to get Batman home safely, but there's a second part, Tim. You get him home safely and you get yourself home safely! You follow orders, even if you don't agree with 'em."

"Do you still have the nightmares?" Tim asked, stacking the cleaned blender on the counter.

Dick turned his head away. "Sometimes."

"Dick," Bruce reached from behind them both and picked up the pan, starting to dry it with a towel. "You never let me down. I fired you because I was terrified that I'd get you killed if you continued as Robin. But you'd learned from the experience and so had I, so I reinstated you. I have learned from both you and Jason. Tim, you'll get more training than Jason had. I want to make sure that you understand the danger and don't get cocky. If you do, you're fired. I won't attend any more funerals."

Tim looked a little shaken. "Are you sure you still want a Robin?"

Bruce gave him a half-smile. "More than ever. Remember, Batman needs a Robin. And you're it."


	5. Bruce Wayne, Deceased

Author's Note: The action in this chapter, for the most part, is based on Nightwing 151. The timing of this scene was my choice and may not be exact canon.

CHAPTER 5

BRUCE WAYNE

DECEASED, AGE 32

The funeral was rough, Dick reflected as he waved good-bye to the guests. Oliver and Dinah had come together in a single car, as had Clark and Diana. Jim Gordon and Barbara had stayed a bit longer, but even they had recognized that it was time to leave. After the small funeral, they had all stayed for tea afterward, impeccably provided by Alfred. Nobody had much to say. What was there to say? That Bruce had been a great man? That was obvious. Recount all the times that Bruce had saved the City or the world? That also went without saying. He supposed that the Heroes had recognized just how shell-shocked the reclusive bat-clan had been and had left as a mercy, not requiring them to entertain outsiders.

Changed out of his suit and tie, Dick sat on the terrace quietly mourning by himself. Tim had disappeared inside the house somewhere. Damian was still with his mother, recovering from the Red Hood's attack. DickOn Alfred's insistence, Dick hadn't allowed the Justice League to throw the massive funeral they'd planned, with hundreds of heroes walking in procession to a massive monument. At the funeral, he'd made it clear to those assembled that, while Bruce Wayne might have passed, the Batman was alive and could never die. The single biggest legacy that Bruce had left behind was the Batman, a frightening shadow of justice, neither ghost, nor demon.

He knew that Bruce had never been afraid of death, although he was frightened of many things, his own mortality hadn't made the top hundred. God... he wasn't ready to lose him yet...

"Sir, it's time," Alfred's quiet voice came from behind him. He turned and saw the butler's face, drawn with sadness. "Are you really sure that you want to do this? The Master would surely understand."

Dick gave him a sad smile. "Bruce, of all people, believed that the family should get together on a regular basis. First Friday of the month is Movie Night and who am I to break his tradition? We all made sure that our schedules were clear, even the Titans new better than to call me on a first Friday." He slowly got up out of his seat. "I'll be right there. Tell Tim, would you?"

Dick made his way to the kitchen. Although it had been redone a few times since his childhood, all the standard ingredients still lived where they always had.

Dick silently took the strawberries out of the refrigerator and set them on the counter where Alfred began slicing them. Tim came into the room, glanced sadly at Alfred and Dick, then went for the blender in the closet. He carried it, cradled in his arms, over to the center island where Alfred was working.

Dick, still in the refrigerator, found the strawberry ice cream and set it down next to Alfred. Then, as they had done too many movie nights to count, Tim shot the ice cream scoop at Dick, who plucked it out of the air with a single hand. Nobody was whooping tonight, though.

Dick scooped the ice cream into the blender, then poured the milk in and noticed out of the corner of his eye that Tim was making microwave popcorn. He sighed. None of them had the energy to actually cook anything tonight. If the sodium and additives killed them, so be it. The last spoonful of Ovaltine was added and the blender processed again. He noted that the popcorn was going into four bowls and remembered Jason, then sighed. Alfred had set out four glasses near the blender. Carefully, Dick poured the shakes evenly into each one, paying extra attention to the fourth. Knowing that Alfred and Tim would each get his own shake, Dick carried the two remaining into the den. He gently set one shake down on the table next to the center black chair, next to an untouched bowl of popcorn.

Tim, at the movie cupboard, caught his eye and held up a DVD case, eyebrows raised. Dick read the title, "Magnificent Seven", and nodded. Tim popped the DVD into the player while Alfred drew the curtains. As he moved towards his own chair, Tim shot the remote to Dick with a "fap!".

Lights lowered the three sat in their accustomed seats, Alfred on the far left. Tim was on the far right. Dick was in the center, to the right of the single empty chair, seeming to loom in the darkness. Dick activated the remote with a "klik!" and started the movie.

Dick reflected that, as every family had its traditions and customs, this had become one of theirs. They would always carry on, no matter what happened. The heart of this family had been torn out, but Batman would never die, could not die. Dick was determined that Bruce's legacy would go on; he would ensure that personally.

The movie ended and Dick turned the DVD player off with another "klik!". Not a single word had been exchanged, but an entire conversation had been held in the silence.

HOURS LATER

BATCAVE

Dick had read over Bruce's will one more time and regretted being unable to follow Bruce's instructions. He had to don the cowl; if he didn't, Jason would co-opt it and destroy Bruce's legacy, trading it for gratuitous murder and violence. Jason was too violent, too unhinged for the cowl. Tim was too young. It had to be him, Bruce's natural heir.

He studied the cape and cowl, so familiar to him over the years. He had always expected to inherit it but had never wanted it. But it was time. He opened the uniform vault and dressed swiftly.

He wasn't as tall as Bruce had been, the suit would need alteration. The cape...was too heavy. With an ironic grimace he reflected that it felt like a kevlar ball gown hanging off his shoulders. He moved into the workout area, wondering how Bruce had managed the level of stealth he'd achieved with body armor this heavy. He had begun to move through his usual pre-patrol warm ups when he heard a startled sound.

"My word!" Alfred stood there, looking startled. Dick stopped, feeling vaguely guilty, as though trying on someone else's clothes.

"It suits you, sir," the old butler said formally. "Shall you be requiring Master Robin accompany you tonight?"

"You couldn't keep me away," Tim said, coming down the stairs, dressed in his uniform. "Let's go...Batman."


	6. Damian Wayne

Author's Note: Most of the dialogue in this chapter is taken from Batman and Robin 20, with a few embellishments of my own.

CHAPTER 6

DAMIAN WAYNE

AGE 10

The snow lay thick on the trees outside Wayne Manor, but inside the great house all was warmth and bustle. The sons of the house were gathered in the kitchen, helping Alfred put together the first movie night for the newest Robin, Damian Wayne.

The Robin in question was less than interested in the activity. He was huddled at the corner of the tile island, earbuds firmly in his ears, mesmerized by his Ipod, even though a portable radio blared Christmas carols fourteen inches away from him. His head was down and it was clear that he was firmly ignoring his older siblings with all of his copious willpower. A magazine open under his elbows and an energy drink completed his personal barricade against the rest of the household. That Damian was even present in the kitchen was the result of gentle persuasion by Alfred the Butler and a direct order from Dick Grayson, also known as Batman.

Alfred watched the boy benignly while he began chopping strawberries. He said to Dick, who was still rummaging in the refrigerator, "It's been quite some time since all you boys were under one roof without your uniforms."

"Especially on a patrol night," Tim Drake, aka Red Robin, unloaded the blender onto the tile kitchen island and gave the ice cream scoop a backhanded toss with some English on it so that swept past Alfred and hit Dick's palm with a loud smack!

"All work and no play, Master Timothy," Alfred said placidly.

"Figured going corporate, we'd need to trade more e-mails to line up all our schedules," Dick commented, deftly plucking the scoop out of the air with one hand without looking and put the ice cream gallon down on the tile surface.

Not to be left out, Damian merely said, "T-t."

"Did you toss in some Ovaltine?" Dick asked as he added ice cream to the blender, leaving room for Alfred's strawberries.

"As always," Alfred replied.

Dick took over working on the shakes while Alfred prepared a stove-top batch of popcorn. Standards may have fallen briefly while the family was in mourning, but now they had returned to normal.

"Heard the head honcho was doing a little tango of death with a hot latin number a few weeks back," Dick grinned over to Tim.

"Yeah, he's starting a new tv show, too," Tim snickered. "Dancing with the bats!"

Damian put down his Ipod and began to listen to the interplay with great interest.

Entering the den, Dick noted that Damian had already taken up his place and was back on the Ipod again while Tim was working on the settings on...a new television set? "You guys got a new screen! Is that only a 50 inch?"

"I do believe it's the size of a car and will serve our needs," Alfred said, drawing the curtains.

"I think it's a 70," Tim said, fiddling with the remote.

Alfred paused to smile out the window at the snowy grounds, the happy sounds of his boys voices warming his heart.

"Hey Tim, I hope you adjusted it and didn't leave it on the factory specs!"

"Sure! It was on the top of my 'list of things to do', Dick!" Tim said in a snarky tone.

"Mind if I scroll through the menu and adjust the color levels?" Dick knew that the picture would stay too green unless the levels were corrected by a master hand.

Damian, planted in his chair, pushed the earbuds deeper in his ears.

"Here, knock yourself out!" Tim responded and tossed the remote to Dick, who put up a hand to catch it.

Into the room strode a tall figure in a black turtleneck and black jeans who raised his hand and neatly intercepted the remote. "Glad you could all make it," Bruce said with a genial smile.

"You're gonna torture us with some ancient black-and-white movie, aren't you?" Damian grumped.

Bruce made eye contact with each of his boys then moved over to where Damian sat and gently pulled out one of the earbuds. "Open your mind, Damian. The movie's got a lot of swordplay and no CGI, you'll love it."

Bruce took his seat in the middle chair, flanked by Dick on his right and Damian on his left. Alfred sat in his chair next to Dick and Tim in his, near the window. The movie title appeared on the screen, "The Mark of Zorro", the movie Bruce had seen with his parents the night they were shot down. Dick picked up a kernel of popcorn and nibbled on it. "Um, Bruce, you sure you want to watch this?"

"It may have been the worst night of my life, Dick, but up until Chill stepped out of the shadows, it was one of the best days of my life. Wasn't often I got to spend every waking minute with both my mother and my father. The whole day felt special. Looking back, this movie marked not only an ending but a beginning...of a new road...a new path," Bruce said thoughtfully. "So it kind of feels like the right time to see it again," He paused and settled into his chair with an air of contentment."With the whole family."

He was home.

HOURS LATER

"How can you call them family?" Damian asked as his father tucked him in, as he insisted on doing at night.

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, Damian? You know that I adopted both Tim and Dick. They're my sons, just as you are. And Alfred raised me."

"T-t! I am the only one who is a blood relation to you," Damian insisted. "I should occupy the chair on your right hand as you only true-born son, not Grayson. That is the tradition!"

This was going to take some delicate handling, Bruce reflected, and pulled a chair next to Damian's bed. "I've explained to you before, Damian, that many families are made by ties of affinity and not just blood. I know that your grandfather Ra's al Ghul employs his relatives and doesn't regard them as 'family' but we don't work that way here."

Damian just looked sullen. "I can see rewarding a faithful servant, like the old butler. My grandfather entrusted much into White Ghost's hands, even though he was defective. But, to make such persons your heirs ahead of your own bloodline is preposterous."

Bruce leaned back in the chair. "I see. Is that the real issue here? When you thought I was dead, you read my will and found that, after my bequest to Alfred, I had left the remainder of the Wayne fortune in three equal parts to my 'sons', with control of the company to Tim Drake. And I hadn't left the title of Batman to anyone." He stared into the rebellious blue eyes, gaze sharp as a drill bit. "You weren't the sole heir and that eats at you. You weren't even the principal heir, since Dick took my place as Batman."

"I should have had both titles," Damian insisted, bottom lip sticking out in a stubborn pout. "Once Drake disappeared, Grayson even asked me to audit the Wayne books, which I did quite competently."

Bruce shook his head. "Damian, you are my son but get this through your head. You are one of three, four if you count Jason-who refuses to acknowledge the tie. You are no less loved than any of my other children, but you aren't preeminent and you definitely are not an only child. At this point in time, you lack the maturity to run either Wayne Enterprises or act as Batman. Once Batman Incorporated gets on its feet, I think that you and I should spend some time together." He stood up. "Dick has been a wonderful trainer for you and you work well together, but I think that a father's hand may be required now.

As Bruce left the room, shutting off the light, he could feel the icy blue eyes boring into this back. The boy would present a challenge but he had every confidence that Damian would adjust to being part of a family. Eventually.


	7. Jason Todd, Prodigal Son

Author's note: With the recent changes in the Bat family, I decided that I needed to update this story. Jason's chapter will be followed by Damian's.

This chapter is being written on the day before Easter while I sit and listen to my standard "Writing" song list. And for the two writing sessions it's taking to create this chapter, one song keeps playing (honest to God) titled "Diversus and Lazarus" whose chorus goes:

"If I were alive again, in space of one half hour, I would make my peace secure, take (destroy) the Devil's power..."

Diversus and Lazarus by Steeleye Span (which follows "Bring me to Life" by Evanescence and is followed by "My Immortal" by Evanescence". What can I say? It's not only the readers who wanted me to write this chapter...

CHAPTER 7

JASON TODD

AGE 21

Jason wasn't the only member of the Bat clan who had doubts about this. Tim had quietly expressed his misgivings to Bruce, as had Damian. Dick just looked tense but said nothing. Only Alfred remained serene. "He is a son of the house," he said quietly. "And he has proven himself to be a reliable and dedicated member of this family."

"Only a year ago he almost killed me and Drake, not that killing Drake would be very difficult," Damian sniffed.

Tim glared at the little monster, but took up the argument. "Bruce, yeah I know, he's been behaving himself lately but it's suicide letting him into the house! He could wreck the place!"

Bruce sighed and turned to Dick. "All right, Dick, voice your objection."

Dick, hands in pants pockets, shrugged. "I've been trying to bring him in for a long time. I'm just glad that he finally listened to you, Bruce. I say make him welcome. He's family and thank God he finally remembers it."

Bruce's worried expression lightened a bit. "I invited him and he's coming. Everybody deserves a second chance, Damian." Bruce said, his gaze sweeping the small group, then boring into his youngest son's especially. "I think he's past his old behaviors. "And that's final. I expect all of you to treat him with courtesy and hospitality."

Jason arrived at seven o'clock sharp, wearing his customary jeans and leather jacket but there was no sign of his signature red mask. He looked even more nervous than any of his 'brothers'. Dick answered the door and smiled as he let Jason into the foyer.

"So, Jason, what's that you've got there?" Dick asked with raised eyebrows.

Jason held up some DVD's. "Alternative viewing. I remember that Bruce skews to old black and white movies. I thought I'd bring some stuff I ran into. Here..." He handed the disks to Dick, who read each title, his eyebrows raising with each one.

"Doctor Horrible's Sing-along Blog?" he asked.

"Yeah, it's about a guy who wants to be a mad scientist and join the 'Evil League of Evil' but he just isn't evil enough. It's a hoot! And you take a look and see if Captain Hammer doesn't remind you of Superman."

"Okay..." Dick read the next one. "Fido?"

"Zombie movie about a boy and his pet zombie," Jason said with a grin. "It's heartwarming in all the wrong ways."

Dick grinned back. "Okay, I'm in, but I have no idea what Bruce is gonna say about this."

"Just put it into the player and see how he reacts," Jason said, pulling a final package out of the bag he carried. "I also brought some fresh strawberries. I know a farmer who grows these for the export market. Thought I'd help make the milkshakes?"

"Do you still remember how?" Dick challenged.

A brief look of loss crossed through Jason's eyes, then cleared. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I've dreamed about Alfred's shakes for...a long time." He turned to head towards the kitchen when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned back. It was Dick. "Yeah?"

"Welcome back, bro," he said with a smile. Jason brightened a bit and made his way into the kitchen.

Alfred was diligently working on the popcorn in the same old frying pan Jason had seen used years before. Tim and Damian were slicing strawberries and looked up when Jason arrived.

"I brought some more strawberries. They're from Bludhaven Farms." Uncertainly, he set down the package.

"Bludhaven Farms?" Alfred said with a smile. "Why those are the best to be had! Usually one can't buy any this side of Japan; they don't release any for local sale. However did you get some?"

Jason blushed and grinned back. "Connections. Do you want me to slice these up too?"

"Oh no, Lad," Alfred said "These are too good to cook with. No, I shall make a chocolate sauce and dip these. Can you take over the popcorn?"

Jason's courage failed him for a moment. It had been years and a death ago that he'd last popped corn under Alfred's direction. But Batman had raised him to face untold dangers and he wasn't going to give up now. "Sure, Alfie," he said. "You have the butter?"

Alfred's smile grew broader. "Right there, young sir. The popcorn is in the canister as usual. And do recall that Master Bruce prefers only a little salt on the popcorn."

Memories of happier times came flooding back into Jason's mind. "I remember, Alfie. Consider it done."

Jason looked around the counter for the canister, raising his hand and catching it with a "Fap!" when Tim, with a big grin, tossed his way. Jason grinned back, briefly realizing how long it had been since he'd smiled so much. With calm expertise, he made a large batch of popcorn while the scent of chocolate and butter filled the kitchen.

Damian slumped at the kitchen island, paying more attention to his iPod than anything else until Titus wandered in and stood next to Jason with hungry eyes. When Jason tossed the dog a couple of popped kernels, Damian straightened, ready to save his dog from whatever mayhem Jason planned, when Jason said, "Y'know, Damian, I used to have a dog when I was a little kid. It was a mutt from off the streets, but he loved me. A dog can be a good friend in bad times. I hope you take care of this one. Titus, isn't he?"

Damian nodded. "He's a great Dane. Father got him for me."

Jason gently ran a hand down Titus' head. "He's beautiful and the name suits him." He gave Titus some more popcorn and handed the big bowl to Damian. "You want to take this in?"

Damian found himself nodding before he realized it and was halfway to the movie room before he realized that he should feel resentful. On reflection, he put the feeling away. He'd been following Jason's orders when he was Wingman and Damian was Redbird. His trust hadn't been misplaced during that period. More important, Father and Grayson seemed to trust him. He'd wait and see.

* * *

The family assembled in the movie room, with Dick and Tim bickering as usual about the video settings.

"It's still green!" Dick insisted.

"No, it isn't. Unless you want to look at a bunch of red and pink people, this is the best it'll do," Tim said, defending the remote valiantly while Dick tried to take it away from him. Bruce charged them both, plucking it from Dick's hand and vaulting for his chair. Jason just watched with a smile.

Bruce sat in his usual place, the center chair of the new line of six. He was flanked by Dick on his right and Damian on his left. Alfred sat in his chair next to Dick and Tim in his, next to Damian. Jay, in the new leather chair placed next to the window, sat nervously, still not sure of his welcome. He had his strawberry shake, courtesy of Alfred, and his bowl of popcorn provided by Damian and had a moment of unreality. He was sitting here, in the Wayne mansion, with his...family. Death and the Joker had robbed him of this, but not forever. He was back and could still have what he'd lost...

Bruce held the remote and glanced along the line of his sons and for once the emotion showed, slowly lighting his face, the pride and happiness fairly surrounding him like a halo. "I'm glad to have the entire family here," he said, voice deepening. "I can't tell you how incredibly proud I am of each of you." He cleared his throat at the unaccustomed emotion and hit the 'play' button. Dick and Jason shared impish glances as "Doctor Horrible's Sing-along Blog" began to play. After a few minutes, Bruce looked puzzled. "Did you pick this out, Jason?" he finally said.

Before Jason could get defensive, Dick broke in. "We both decided it would be fun to see. C'mon, Bruce. You can't say you take what we do all that seriously. Okay, maybe you do. But I remember a few incompetent mad scientists who had our sympathy back in the day. And besides, who does Captain Hammer remind you of?"

Reluctantly, Bruce cracked a smile. "Okay, you have a point. But don't you dare tell _him_ I said so!" He clicked the DVD back on.

Storm over, the entire family leaned back in their chairs and soon all was silence but for the crunching noises of popcorn. Titus, of course, was responsible for cleanup of all popcorn that fell to the floor.

During the movies, Jason was aware that Bruce's gaze kept returning to him. It made him feel nervous, being watched like that. He had to keep reminding himself that Bruce wasn't an enemy any mo...No, he had never been an enemy anywhere except in Jason's own mind. He sighed. The Pit had left a lot of debris in his psyche. It was going to take a long time to clear it all out.

Dick sat back in his chair and thoroughly enjoyed watching Tim and Damian laugh at the movies. Jason grinned and clearly enjoyed watching his brothers getting into his movie choices. But what Dick enjoyed most was seeing Bruce relax and bask in the presence of family. He suspected that had Bruce's parents survived, his adoptive father would have married young and happily raised a dozen kids. This was as close as Bruce could get, but Dick was glad to see him happy at last.

* * *

HOURS LATER

A protesting Damian was forced to bed by Alfred, followed by a reluctant Tim who had been up all night patrolling the evening before. It left the three eldest members of the team drinking coffee in front of the fire in Bruce's study.

"I'm glad you decided to watch movies with us tonight," Bruce said, hesitantly, conscious that Jason was still touchy in spots. "This will always be your home, Jason, if you want it."

"I know, Bruce," Jason said, face showing regret. "I just wish I'd come to my sense sooner. Dick, I'm sorry..."

"Water under the bridge, Jay," Dick said, sipping his coffee. "I knew that the real you was still in there, somewhere; when I was filling in for Bruce, you just weren't ready yet. I'm simply glad you're back, Little Wing. Brothers?" He reached out a hand.

"Brothers," Jason clasped the proffered hand and they shook. "But if you ever call me 'Little Wing' again, I'm gonna clock you."


	8. Damian Wayne, Deceased

Author's Note: This one is short, because right now it's hard to read our heroes' states of mind or find a cohesive narrative. So, here is my take on Damian's death.

CHAPTER 8

DAMIAN WAYNE

DECEASED, AGE 11

The rain was still pouring down when all four of them slogged their way back to the house. Alfred held back until Masters Dick and Tim had gone through the manor doorway.

"Sir?" he asked the man he'd raised from childhood.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," Bruce sighed. "You weren't at fault. Please...don't go away. Come inside. Family needs to be together at a time like this."

"Indeed we do," Alfred replied sadly, putting a hand on Bruce's shoulder. Together the two defeated-looking men entered the house.

Dick and Tim were already in the kitchen. Dick had pulled out the old cast iron skillet and was staring at it blankly while Tim chopped strawberries. Neither of them had bothered to change into dry clothing. Alfred quietly tsk'd and retrieved two bath towels from the downstairs linen closet, gently draping them around the shoulders of his boys. Bruce had disappeared, but Alfred found him hunched in his black leather chair in the den. Alfred handed the third towel to him.

"I take it that Master Jason will not be present?" Alfred asked.

Bruce nodded grimly. "Red Hood hasn't been seen since the day that Damian...He may have been captured. Or he may have run. His coms don't work." He rubbed his eyes with a hand still reddened by the cold. "I'll go looking for him once...this...is taken care of."

"Master Jason is quite a competent fighter," Alfred said. "He can take care of himself.." Then the butler stilled, realizing what he had just said. He put a hand to his lips.

"So could Damian..." Bruce answered, his voice unsteady. He turned at the sound of footsteps.

"I...uh...I did my best with the shakes," Tim said, holding a tray. "Here's yours, Bruce." He leaned down and Bruce took two, walking the second one to the table next to Damian's unoccupied chair. Dick put a small bowl of popcorn next to it, distributed other bowls of popcorn and took his own seat next to Bruce. Tim settled into his usual spot.

"What...what are we watching tonight?" Dick choked out.

Bruce turned off the lights, then reached for the DVR remote. "The Lion King. Damian's favorite movie."

Dick just nodded and hunched back into his chair, knees pulled to his chin.

"Dick..." Bruce's voice was soft. "It wasn't your fault. Leviathan knocked you out when he threw you into that glass case. You're lucky you didn't get stabbed by all that glass..."

"Robin's first...du..ty...is to make sure that Bat...Batman gets home," Dick said, eyes welling with tears. "_B..Batman's_ first duty is making sure that Robin gets home...I k..killed my partner, Bruce. I let him down. I let him down..." Dick got up from the chair and rushed out of the room."

Alfred got up to follow him but Bruce stopped him. "Let him go, Alfred. I...know how he feels. He'll come back when he's ready..."

Bruce heard Tim sobbing as he pressed the 'play' button.

* * *

HOURS LATER

Dick Grayson sat in his apartment, dressed in sweat pants and two sweaters. He'd turned the heat off because he couldn't afford to pay the bill. The little bit of money he had left had to pay his way to Chicago.

The well-appointed loft was mostly empty. The weights and workout equipment had been sold. Tim was buying the spare batarangs and most of the bat-gear. Dick had kept only a couple of Nightwing suits and some basic equipment. If, after this, he continued to be a vigilante, he would simplify his lifestyle. He couldn't afford to keep up with Batman anymore. He wasn't going to ask Bruce for money. He didn't have a right to it, anyway. Not any of it. Not after what happened to Damian...

The tv set wasn't leaving till the next morning. His bags were packed and he was ready to go. He could camp out in the empty apartment for as long as it took. Just one last thing to do: track down Damian's killer. Bruce didn't want them interfering with his own hunt for Talia. But what Bruce didn't understand was that, while he had been Damian's father, Dick had been Damian's first Batman. Dick and Damian really had been the best. Dick scrubbed at his eyes, remembering Damian's last words to him. "Don't worry, partner," Dick whispered. "I'll get Leviathan for you. He won't hurt anyone else."

Dick turned on the tv and started the NetFlacks movie he'd just rented: The Lion King. He pulled his knees to his chin, burying his face, and let the tears finally come.

He didn't see the dark shadow perched outside his window, watching over him.


End file.
